


A Body is a Corpse

by antioedipus



Series: Corpse Metaphor [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Background Ichigo/Rukia, Byakuya is a dick, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied Toushirou/Momo, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, background RanGin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antioedipus/pseuds/antioedipus
Summary: Hisana takes a chance, and Byakuya resents her for it.“That was six years ago,” Byakuya says. It’s actually closer to seven, but he’d like to retroactively cut their time short. Annoyance flickers across Hisana’s face, until she shakes her head slightly and smiles. He admires her ability to shake off his posturing. Always has."A follow up To Tap on Teeth.
Relationships: Kuchiki Byakuya & Kuchiki Rukia, Kuchiki Byakuya/Kuchiki Hisana
Series: Corpse Metaphor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097507
Comments: 12
Kudos: 13





	1. A Broken Big Toe

“You just crack another beer/ And pretend that you’re still here”

Lana Del Rey, “How to Disappear”

Standing in the kitchen, Byakuya leans against the counter, his arms crossed, frowning. Hisana is sitting at the kitchen table, looking at him expectantly. She drums her fingers on the tabletop—a rolling tap, tap, tap—and he can’t help but resent her all over again. For coming here, for not choosing him in the first place, for making him weak. What he would have liked to have done when she showed up at the police station, is pretend she didn’t exist and walk out the door. But then they made eye contact, and Gin and Rangiku made him believe that love is not just possible but _real_ , and Rangiku went ahead and introduced herself to Hisana.

Byakuya didn’t say anything as they walked to the truck she rented and got in. Hisana decided she missed him, applied to finish her residency at the Karakura General, and decided to be brave and move here to be with him. She smiled at him when she said that last bit, and he said nothing, simply pointing in the direction she should go in. Apparently, she drove three straight days—all her things are in the back of the truck, and she started asking him about apartments and he just can’t believe that she’s here, she is finally and really and actually here, and he feels so much but, at the same time, it’s like a big lump of nothing sits in his chest.

She babbled as she parked the truck in the driveway of his parents’ obnoxiously large house, not directly talking about the obscenity of having a huge house in a small, kind of rundown town. Hisana is always polite. She’s very good about talking around things that make people uncomfortable. It’s something he always liked about her.

When she parked the truck, he wordlessly picked up her overnight bag, hopping out in one fluid movement. He walked over to the house without looking back, as Hisana scrambled to turn the truck off, undo her seatbelt, get out of the cab and run up to the door, where he waits. He’s not speaking at all, but she can tell that he is waiting for her.

They went into the house and took off their shoes, and now they are in the kitchen. Hisana sat down and watched him wash his hands, and then she dropped the real bomb, which, he really, really should have seen coming: “Byakuya, do you remember when we talked about soulmates?” Her eyes are big, and she looks eager for his response.

“Soulmates,” he repeats. He does remember that conversation, vividly. Hisana’s little sister went on a New Age kick when they first got together, so they ended up spending a lot of time talking about reincarnation and third eyes and soulmates. In an ill-considered moment of vulnerability, Byakuya said that he would like to think that soulmates are real; there is something romantic about someone else being made out of the same primordial ooze as you. Hisana had smiled softly and told him that he’s sweet. It made him glow at the time, but now, he feels ashamed. For being a creature of sentiment, for letting Hisana get close enough to see all of his soft bits.

“Do you remember what you said?” she asks. His face doesn’t change.

“That was six years ago,” Byakuya says. It’s actually closer to seven, but he’d like to retroactively cut their time short. Annoyance flickers across Hisana’s face, until she shakes her head slightly and smiles. He admires her ability to shake off his posturing. Always has.

“You said you’d like for them to be real,” Hisana says, “and I think they are.” _Because I know you_.

Byakuya sucks all the saliva back in his mouth, having no easy way out of this one. It’s not like he’s really tried to date anyone new, and he has enough self-awareness to know that he has wanted to hear her say something like this for a very long time. He can tell that Hisana knows this about him, how much he’s wanted to hear her say that she believes soulmates are real. It upsets him, that she still knows what he’s a sucker for.

And, for the record, while we’re on this subject, fucking Rangiku doesn’t count as trying to date someone new. Their relationship was quid pro quo, and even then, he thinks she was just with him because Urahara and Shuunsei talk too much and Shuuhei and Renji greatly overestimated how much she actually liked them. Byakuya was just the least objectionable choice and well, a person’s real reasons are never good or altruistic, not really, not in the cold light of day. And what were his real reasons for fucking Rangiku? She’s hot and didn’t want to fall in love. Byakuya’s perfect relationship.

Byakuya chooses to do the safe thing, which is to change the subject. “Are you hungry?” he asks, walking over to the landline he never got rid of. He and Rukia haven’t even changed the voicemail. Soujun’s soft voice still asks, “please leave a name and a number, and someone will get back to you as quickly as possible.”

“Byakuya?” Hisana asks. He looks at her from beneath his brow.

“Are you hungry?” he asks; it’s a question, but there is no inflection.

“Starved,” she says. He nods to himself, picking up the phone and walking to the fridge to look at the flyers.

“Pizza?” he asks, holding up a flyer. It’s well-worn, suggesting that he orders from there frequently.

“Sure,” Hisana says, “look, Byakuya—”

She is interrupted by the door slamming, and two voices yelling over each other in the front hall. Never before has Byakuya been so grateful to hear his sister and her obnoxious friend. Ichigo is in the middle of calling Rukia a monster, when she decides to stomp down the hall, and bursts into the kitchen. She’s a little breathless, which is how Byakuya knows that they argued the entire way home.

“You’re such a blockhead!” Rukia declares. He raises an eyebrow as she walks to the sink to wash her hands, as Ichigo follows her, a frown on his face.

“Why did you walk away?” he asks, “I’m trying to have a conversation with you!” Byakuya looks over at Hisana, who blinks at the scene. Ichigo’s hands are on his hips, and he’s leaning forward, while Rukia glares at him from over her shoulder. When Ichigo isn’t around, she’s quiet and avoids Byakuya for the most part. Ichigo appears to have a way of winding her up and bringing her out of her shell, something that is probably good for her, even if it is annoying for Byakuya to deal with.

“Did you not hear me the first time?” Rukia says, completely oblivious to Byakuya and Hisana.

“You can’t just call me names when I say something you don’t like,” Ichigo retorts.

“Well, I didn’t feel like talking anymore,” Rukia says, her voice childish.

“You can’t just walk away from someone when they are trying to talk to you!” Ichigo exclaims, “I swear, it’s like you were raised by wolves or something! No offense, Byakuya.” His lip twitches at Ichigo’s informality, but he chooses not to say anything.

“You shouldn’t yell!” Rukia turns the tap off and stomps right up to Ichigo.

“Well, you should listen!” Ichigo counters, towering over her. They look at each other, breathing hard, when Byakuya clears his throat.

Rukia looks over at him, her posture immediately stiffening, while Ichigo relaxes. Hisana notices her stand straight up and drop the childish airs. _So, this is Rukia._ They do look an awful lot alike, but they are completely different.

“Sorry for the noise, brother,” Rukia says in a subdued tone. Byakuya doesn’t even blink, like it isn’t weird at all for a seventeen-year-old girl to address her older brother like he’s a superior being.

“It’s fine,” he says, “we have a guest tonight.”

“A guest?” Rukia asks. Byakuya nods in Hisana’s direction, and Rukia and Ichigo both turn to look at her.

Hisana suddenly feels very self-conscious. Her hair is clipped up and out of her face, and she’s wearing an old, baggy black turtleneck and leggings. Her socks don’t even match, and there is a hole in the big toe.

“Hi, I’m Hisana,” she says, smiling. Rukia tilts her head, like she’s assessing her. It’s something she’s seen Byakuya do, and not for the first time, she wonders what life is like in the Kuchiki household.

“I’m Rukia,” she says, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. How long will you be staying?” It’s telling that Rukia doesn’t bother asking Hisana how she knows Byakuya. Like she doesn’t expect to see Hisana ever again.

“Only for a night,” Byakuya says, “I’m ordering pizza for dinner. Will you two be eating with us?”

“Eat with you?” Ichigo asks.

“We’ll take our dinner up to my room,” Rukia says quickly. Byakuya looks over, and he just _knows_ that she knows that he and Rukia avoid each other at home, and that they never eat together unless they have to. That’s another thing he used to love about Hisana but now finds himself hating; it always feels like she can look inside of him. Byakuya does not much care for it.

“Oh? Shouldn’t we eat together?” Ichigo asks.

“You may eat in your room,” Byakuya says, “the usual, Rukia?” He doesn’t bother to acknowledge the confusion on Ichigo or Hisana’s faces. Rukia nods, and Byakuya walks into the other room to place his order.

**

It has been years since he last saw Hisana. Two, to be exact. Byakuya is in his room, lying in bed, eating a slice of pizza. He considers the possibility of that he could choke, as he lifts the pizza up to his mouth like it’s a bunch of grapes. When he moved back here, he thought about changing his room—taking down ugly posters, getting rid of old books and clothes, buying a new mattress—but he’s done no such thing. His mattress is hard and lumpy, and he can afford a larger one, but Byakuya is a creature of habit and when he resigned himself to moving back here, he decided to fully embrace regression.

Biting off a mouthful of hot cheese and tomato sauce, Byakuya decides to judge himself for still remembering Hisana’s pizza order. Hot banana peppers, pineapple and tomatoes. One would think that he would have forgotten it by now, but no, his mind holds onto every little piece of Hisana there is.

Before the pizza came, Byakuya showed Hisana to her room. He even carried her bag up for her and everything. She stopped trying to engage him after Rukia and Ichigo went upstairs, which Byakuya appreciates. She has always known when to let him retreat. Yet another thing for him to hate that he likes about her. He doesn’t usually eat in bed but, well, he really, really doesn’t want to deal with Hisana and all that she represents.

She made him a better person. Regrettably, it took him until the ripe old age of twenty-one to give a shit about someone other than himself. He loves his family and friends, but he never cared for them; it was Renji and Kaien who always checked up on Byakuya, keeping in touch after they all graduated. In hindsight, his parents always tried to show their care, but they were raised with the same tough love and emotional absence with which they raised him. Rukia stopped trying to be his friend when he watched her fall off a chair and did nothing to help when he was seventeen and she was six. She didn’t even both reaching out to him. Rukia simply wiped her tears away and stood up, the way they were both taught.

But Hisana? Say what you want, he _cared_ for her. Byakuya was the one who took care of her, never the other way around. She had been in recovery for most of their relationship, and every period of remission would inevitably end in a depressive episode. It didn’t even eat away at their relationship—Byakuya actually really liked being the reliable partner. No, the responsibilities and obligations were not what drove him away; rather, it was the day she told him that she wouldn’t move back to Karakura with him. Her residency was too important, she doesn’t want to leave her support network, why couldn’t Rukia move in with them?

Byakuya frowns up at his ceiling, swallowing the food in his mouth. He spitefully takes another bite of his pizza (even though, in all honesty, spitefully is not the adverb he would use to describe eating but alas, he is not the writer of his own story. He has resigned himself to being a piece of someone else’s vision. Giving up existential responsibility has done wonders for his mental health). It’s only 6 p.m., but he has no plans to leave this room, until he has to brush his teeth.

Chewing his food, Byakuya listens to Ichigo and Rukia fight in her room. He’s noticed that Ichigo has been spending more time here, coming over earlier and staying over later. Byakuya supposes that, if he were a ‘good’ big brother he would give Ichigo a hard time or at least assert a limit or a boundary or kick him out a decent hour, but he truly does not care about what Ichigo and Rukia get up to, as long as they aren’t loud, don’t hurt themselves or others, and don’t get caught committing a crime. He doesn’t care if they’re fucking, (even though, judging from the juvenile way they circle each other, they definitely aren’t) because as far as he is concerned, Ichigo and Rukia are like Ken and Barbie. He has no interest in their sex lives, and frankly, it’s already a burden to know that they are attracted to each other.

Byakuya swallows, and takes another bite of his pizza, sighing to himself when he hears a loud banging in Rukia’s room as she tells Ichigo that he is going to go _absolutely nowhere_ in this life if he is incapable of listening and following simple instructions, like using a _fucking coaster_ when he sets his drink down on her beloved, dead father’s cherry wood desk. Byakuya briefly considers whether or not he should just let himself choke on the masticated pizza in his mouth, or if he should get up and bang on the wall or poke his head into her room and do a grunt-eyebrow-raise that usually goes over Ichigo’s head but always shuts Rukia up.

On the other hand, when Hisana is here, he remembers how much better it felt to be tender with someone, and he hates himself for not being the caring brother Rukia probably wants and deserves to have, and because it’s not his love for Rukia that motivates this hatred but his desire for Hisana to still see him as a good, caring person. He reminds himself that everyone’s real reasons are almost, inevitably, _incredibly_ , selfish.

**

Hisana has always known that Byakuya is a dick. They were introduced by a mutual friend who described him as a ‘theory bro who never had a soul,’ which Byakuya, at the time, seemed to find amusing. There were stories of him eviscerating other students in class, getting into arguments and condescending to his peers, responding with cruelty and indifference when questioned. He is, was, a grade-A asshole and Hisana thinks that their mutual friend found it comical rather than off-putting.

Hisana lies in the middle of the bed, looking up at the whirring ceiling fan. Never before had she directly experienced his avoidant behavior. When they were first introduced, he had tilted his head and looked at her for a minute, before introducing himself in his softest voice. _Hisana_. Her name is always soft in his mouth, even when he’s angry with her, like today.

She had absolutely no idea that he grew up in a house this big, or that his relationship with his sister was so strained, or that moving back here, without her, did _this_ to him. The Byakuya she knew was always kind of a dick, but she didn’t think he’d be that way with his sister. He had taken care of Hisana during her depressive episodes, making sure bills were paid and that there was food in the fridge. She can’t square that man who ran his hands through her hair and pressed his nose to her neck with the one in the kitchen, who eyed her like she was an inconvenience. Never has he ever made her feel like a burden, even in the times when she couldn’t brush her teeth or get out of bed. That he’d make her feel this way, after she gave everything up, well…it’s not like she asked if she could come back into his life.

She ate her dinner in the kitchen, alone, and then packed up the pizza and put it in the fridge, since she could tell that Byakuya was not going to come back down to the kitchen, and then she walked up to her room. It’s obvious that no one has been in here for months—it’s dusty. She opened a window, and now it’s cold, almost freezing, but that doesn’t bother her.

No, what does bother her is the fact that Byakuya is down the hall and yet, he’s never felt further away.

**

Breakfast is awkward. Hisana didn’t sleep very well, and she woke up and packed her things before going downstairs. She should’ve known better than to come here without calling him, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t feel disappointed. Sitting at the kitchen table, Hisana picks at a piece of toast while Byakuya sips his coffee. They haven’t said anything since he muttered a ‘good morning,’ and set a piece of peanut butter toast and a cup of coffee in front of her.

She’s not hungry, but it’d be rude not to eat. Byakuya eyes her hand as she picks off a crumb from the crust, piling it onto her plate. He can tell that she’s hurt, and he knows that he is the reason. He doesn’t want to see her, but he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. He just doesn’t have it in him to apologize for being so cold.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, doing his best not to twitch.

“Fine,” Hisana says, trying not to jump on any opportunity for a conversation. Byakuya nods to himself.

“And how is—”

“My depression?” Hisana asks. Byakuya nods. He had taken care of her, at its worst. “It’s okay. I’m in remission. On a new medication.” One that doesn’t nuke her sex drive, but it does make her sweat and have weird dreams. He sips his coffee, not saying anything. They both remember the year she could barely get out of bed, when showering took too much effort and eating was nearly impossible. The aches that wouldn’t go away, the stiff muscles and joint pain. Depression hurts in a very real way, something neither of them appreciated until it rendered Hisana immobile.

Before he can say anything, they hear Rukia come down the stairs. Ichigo left late at night—Byakuya heard Rukia go downstairs and get his shoes, and Ichigo climb through the window. Hisana is still surprised that Byakuya let that happen; he always cared about the rules. They both turn to look at Rukia as she comes into the kitchen. Her hair has been cut, from her shoulders to just below her ears. It’s uneven and choppy, the kind of bad haircut that only looks good on a teenager.

“Good morning,” Byakuya says.

“Good morning,” Rukia replies, ignoring Hisana. She picks up an apple and takes a bag out of the fridge, and wordlessly leaves the kitchen. They hear the front door slam, because anger has to come out somewhere. Byakuya looks undisturbed, like this is normal.

Hisana has a brother and a sister, and she can’t imagine ever having such cold relationships with them. Even when she was angry, they never gave each other the silent treatment or hurt each other to the extent that they had their friends give them terrible haircuts in the middle of the night. Hisana can’t hide her reaction.

“You know she did that for your attention, right?” Hisana asks. She looks at him, a stern expression on her face. Byakuya tilts his head, face blank.

“What?”

“You don’t talk to her, do you?” she asks, sitting back in her chair. “Byakuya, it’s one thing to freeze me out, but your baby sister?” His jaw ticks. He has never taken it well when his shortcomings have been pointed out to him. He stands up and picks up his mug and plate, walking over to the sink. Hisana watches his back; he still wears ribbons in his hair, the only evidence that she is, indeed, dealing with the same person.

Byakuya turns back to her, his face as flat and blank as a concrete wall. “I’m going to work. It’s time for you to leave. Leave the truck parked here until you find an apartment.” With that, he leaves the kitchen, and Hisana looks down at her toast, realizing that this is what complete rejection feels like.

**

Even though he’s closer to thirty then he’d like to be, whenever he’s in Mayuri’s office, Byakuya still feels like he’s in high school and got caught with Nemu in the back of his father’s Mercedes. Mayuri had blown a gasket, and to this day, Byakuya has no idea how his father talked him out of annihilating both Nemu and Byakuya. Mayuri is the kind of sadist who really should have become a dentist rather than a teacher, and because the universe has a sense of humor and there was no other candidate, he has been the principal of Karakura High School for the last twenty years. By some sick twist of fate, Nemu is now the head of the science department. Before Hisana came back to town, she had been the most awkward person for Byakuya to run into. What he would give to go back.

Byakuya would like to think that he is projecting a demeanor of polite indifference, however, Mayuri is not one for subtleties so Byakuya’s effort is wasted upon him. Mayuri’s hands are clasped on his desk, as he looks at Gin and Byakuya, who are sitting in front of him. He looks deeply unimpressed, like they have already ruined his day. Byakuya doesn’t know Mayuri can stand to work here, considering that all the teachers and staff members are unionized. He imagines that to be properly and truly and actually happy, Mayuri should work at a large corporation where he can fire people at will and dump toxic waste into a nearby lake that small towns rely on for water.

Mayuri looks from Gin to Byakuya, saying nothing. He and Gin had only just gotten into the office when Mayuri had called for him personally. “Do you two know why you’re here?”

“You called us down here,” Byakuya deadpans, taking the lead. Mayuri looks at him with scorn, clearly, expecting a submissive tone.

“Yesterday, Aizen quit with no notice,” Mayuri says, “and you,” he points at Gin, “punched him in the face in front of the school and were subsequently arrested, while you,” he says, pointing at Byakuya, “decided to leave class and bail him out!”

“I found substitutes,” Byakuya replies. This is not what Mayuri wants to hear.

“Excuses!” Slamming his fist on the desk, Mayuri leans forward, grimacing, his yellowed teeth showing. “What happened to the English department? First Kisame, now Aizen…we used to have world class educators, and what do we have now?”

“People with relevant graduate degrees,” Gin hums, sitting back. Byakuya watches Mayuri’s lip twitch, and it’s satisfying to watch him work out how offended he ought to be.

“Do you two think I’m an idiot?” Mayuri asks. Byakuya always forgets how much of a narcissist Mayuri actually is, despite the fact that he spent a year fucking Nemu, and he always got the sense that Mayuri only loves her because he made someone so much hotter than him.

“Oh, I don’t think very much,” Gin replies, smiling peacefully.

Byakuya remains silent, because he hasn’t taken Mayuri’s intelligence seriously since he let Aizen and Momo happen. When he moved back, Byakuya happily took a job at the school because he sure as shit wasn’t going to sit back and leave his kid sister wide open. Contact sports taught him how to tackle and he’s been in enough bar fights to know how to throw a punch.

Mayuri eyes Byakuya, who raises an eyebrow. “And you, Byakuya?”

“I’m not paid to think, I’m paid to teach,” he replies. From the corner of his eyes, Byakuya sees Gin blink the way he does when he thinks Byakuya has landed a good one.

“I have no clue what Aizen saw in either of you,” Mayuri says, “insolent and insubordinate, both of you!” He sighs with exasperation, like Byakuya and Gin are being the difficult ones, looking up at the sky. “If I were religious, I would say that every further day God grants me simply prolongs my suffering.”

“Good thing God’s dead,” Gin says, knowing that Mayuri won’t catch the reference. Byakuya can’t imagine Mayuri reading anything besides obscure science journals and tax forms, you know, dull things that _are_ important but nothing that could be remotely considered philosophical or interesting.

“We all know God never existed in the first place,” Mayuri says, waving his hand.

“Ah, well, in that case, my Satanic practices have been for naught,” Gin says, shrugging. Byakuya really wishes Gin would stop talking. He wants to get his scolding so he can go on and live his life; if the Ninth Circle of Hell (treachery) is working with Aizen, then the Fifth Circle (wrath) is sitting here and being forced to pretend that Mayuri is, in anyway, an educator. At least, unlike Aizen, he doesn’t pretend to have a human soul. Mayuri simply doesn’t believe in them.

“It’s a miracle that neither of you became delinquents,” Mayuri says, reinventing history, like Gin wasn’t a prodigy and Byakuya wasn’t always on the honor roll and the star quarterback. “Nevermind. I’ve called you both down here to discuss how we are going to deal with Aizen.”

 _That man should have been fired as soon as he started letting Momo hang off of him_. Instead, he was promoted to the head of the English department. Byakuya can’t believe that he and Gin are being scolded for Aizen leaving, or that his departure isn’t a good thing.

“What do you mean?” Byakuya asks, “won’t you just put up a job posting?”

“Yes, yes,” Mayuri says, waving his hand dismissively, “but you two will need to take on Aizen’s coursework.” Byakuya and Gin both blink at Mayuri, who has always had a screw loose but has never, to either of their knowledge, lost touch with reality.

“He has classes that conflict with ours,” Gin says, “would it not be more efficient to hire a substitute to cover for him until a permanent replacement can be found?”

Mayuri makes a downright evil expression, tilting his chin down. “Budget cuts,” he says, shrugging. “I just wanted to tell you two, personally, that you will be taking on Aizen’s work until a replacement can be found. Understand?” Byakuya and Gin sit and say nothing, staring at Mayuri. He smiles, exposing all of his yellow teeth. “Perfect! Now, get out of my office.” He waves his hands, practically shooing them out the door.

**

For most of his life, Byakuya felt like all the adults around him, including his parents, were asleep at the metaphorical wheel. When news of Aizen and Momo came out, it simply confirmed a long-held suspicion of his—adults are just as stupid and self-centred as teenagers, society just caters to them, so everyone pretends otherwise. Byakuya and Gin stare at the schedule in front of them, trying to figure out how the fuck they are going to divide the courses between them. They have half an hour before the day starts, which means they have to figure out which classes will be combined together until Mayuri hires someone which, well, could be never if he decides to truly cut this corner.

“Fuck Mayuri,” Byakuya says, rubbing his temples. As a rule, Byakuya does not touch his face but he is just so _over it_.

“Does Mayuri’s wife even like fucking Mayuri?” Gin asks. Byakuya snorts.

“We aren’t going to joke about his fixation on Nemu?”

“No,” Gin says, “we have to set an example.” Also, it’s just too horrifying to contemplate and not even funny, not really, which also makes it funnier, depending on your outlook.

“I hope Aizen is in a ditch somewhere,” Byakuya says, unusually expressive. Bailing Gin out of jail really did bring them closer.

“There is no God, so that won’t happen,” Gin replies, standing up to look at the schedule up close.

Byakuya opens his mouth to reply, when there is a small knock at the door. They both turn around as the door opens, and Rukia pokes her head into the office.

“Good morning,” she says, “Byakuya, I thought I should tell you that I’ve just received another offer of admission.” It is Gin who speaks first, while Byakuya looks at her with a blank look.

“Congratulations, Rukia,” Gin says, “it must’ve been nice to wake up to that news.”

“I received it last night, actually,” Rukia says, “Byakuya was busy, so I didn’t have the opportunity to tell him.” Breakfast had also been very awkward, and she didn’t want to tell a stranger her business. She doesn’t know who exactly Hisana is, but she can tell that Byakuya doesn’t want to involve her in their lives. It had been very awkward, seeing them sitting across from each other. Rukia knows her brother is handsome, but he’s not worth humiliating yourself over. Gin looks over at Byakuya, who shrugs, saying nothing, turning back to the schedule.

“Rukia, I am going to the grocery store after school. Do we need anything?” he asks, sidestepping her achievement. Gin says nothing, because Byakuya and Rukia’s relationship is none of his business, turning back to his coffee. Rukia looks down on the floor, which they would see if they bothered to turn back to see her.

“No,” she says in a small voice, “I want for nothing.” Nothing but care.

**

The floorboards creak under Hisana’s feet as she stands in the empty living room of a one-bedroom apartment. The apartment building looks dilapidated. It is a white and blue building, and in all honesty, it looks like a haunted motel where some young, hot couple was murdered mid-tryst and now haunt the premises with a serial killer working at the front desk.

However, it is only $750 a month for a one-bedroom and it’s within walking distance of the hospital. The neighborhood is nice enough, and to be honest, there really isn’t a ‘bad’ part of Karakura. It’s that small.

“Can I move in today?” Hisana asks, turning to the superintendent. Juushirou, who looks far too pretty to live in this town let alone this building, lives onsite. He has been nothing but kind to her, and he smiles, crossing his arms.

“Of course,” he says, “you will have to pay rent for this month, of course.”

“That’s perfect,” she replies, smiling, “do you have the lease?”

As Juushirou pulls out the paperwork, Hisana walks to the window, which looks out to the centre of town. She still doesn’t know if it was a good idea to move here, but she decides to sign the lease anyway.


	2. Severed Hamstrings

“I miss dancing with you the most of all”

Lana Del Rey, “The greatest”

Saturday rolls around, and still annoyed by the comment Hisana made about his relationship with Rukia, Byakuya decides that they are going to go to the diner for breakfast. Rukia has said nothing to him since he declared this, but he doesn’t mind. It’d be weird if she wanted to talk to him. Iba isn’t a great chef, but according to Rukia he does make good French toast and Byakuya figures he can’t fuck up piece of toast and a fried egg. They are sitting in a booth by the window, Rukia with her notebook and glitter gel pens while she writes out a few of her ideas for an essay. Byakuya is reading the newspaper. Neither of them speaks, for they have nothing to say to each other.

Byakuya looks over at Rukia’s notebook, watching her use a glittery pink gel pen to draw an unfortunate looking rabbit. He says nothing, returning to the local paper, where the biggest news is that there is a new stop sign in front of the diner, something that people have been demanding for years. Renji once made front page news when he was recruited to play football for a big school on the west coast. Byakuya never asked Renji why he came back, or why he chose to become a police officer. As far as he knows, Renji never had an injury, nor was there any family emergency that called him back here. They never talk about those kinds of things, and in all truth, it is Kaien who knows how to talk about difficult things.

Rangiku comes up to their table, a full coffee pot in hand. She is wearing a lacey camisole under her tight pink blouse, covering some of her cleavage. She has been in an upbeat mood all week, and right now, she is smiling right into Byakuya’s eyes. She never looked this happy when they were fucking—it is endlessly surprising that it is Gin, of all people, who makes her so happy. But on the other hand, they were always Rangiku and Gin; they were inseparable in high school, and it was obvious that she was always following him.

Byakuya decides he doesn’t want to know what exactly Gin did to make her so happy, and simply nods when Rangiku holds up the coffee pot.

“Rukia?” Rangiku says, looking at his sister. Rukia looks up at her.

“Yes, please,” Rukia says, turning back to her notebook. Rangiku pours the coffee, and looks pointedly at Byakuya, who, when he realizes she is staring, gives her a flat look.

“So, Byakuya,” Rangiku says, “anything special happen this week?”

“No,” Byakuya replies. He has been so busy with work and forgetting Hisana exists that he hasn’t even been able to enjoy Aizen’s departure.

“Really?” she says, “no one special come into town?” Wiggling her eyebrows, she gives him a suggestive look. He narrows his eyes, having forgotten that she was right there when Hisana came up to him.

“No,” he says, “I continue to lead a life of solitude.” They never had the kind of sex he had with Hisana, or the kind he presumes Rangiku has with Gin. It wasn’t necessarily brief, but always to the point. Rangiku frowns, tilting her head to the side, glossy hair falling over her shoulder. She is still like honey—golden and shiny.

“Sounds boring,” she says, looking over at the door. Byakuya watches as her face softens, and he doesn’t need to be told that it is none other than Gin who walks through the door, the door chime going off. He doesn’t even turn to look, as Gin walks up to their table.

“Ran,” he says softly, “I didn’t think the Kuchikis would patronize such an establishment.”

“This town isn’t known for its options,” Byakuya says dismissively. His family could certainly afford to live in a much nicer town, but alas, this is where the Kuchiki country house is located, and his father decided that it would be best for his children to be raised in the sticks. Would keep them humble, or whatever. It didn’t change the fact that Byakuya and Rukia still grew up playing tennis and riding horses, even though Byakuya quit tennis for football and Rukia stopped riding after the untimely death of her little white show pony, Yuki.

“You’re just obstinate with no imagination,” Rangiku says, cocking her hip. Rukia smiles to herself.

“Hmm,” Byakuya hums, not saying anything. “Are you going to take our order?”

“Not if you speak to me like that,” Rangiku mutters, setting the coffee pot on the table.

“Byakuya, I thought we were friends,” Gin says, “you’re so cold.”

“What did I say about this town and its options?” Byakuya says. Rangiku sighs loudly while Gin says nothing. Rangiku turns to Gin, probably to tell him that she will meet him at the counter, when the door clangs open, and they hear a familiar cackle.

“Bleeding bloody balls of Saint Peter,” Kenpachi says, “what does a man have to do for some entertainment around here?” Byakuya feels his last nerve pop, while Rangiku sighs.

“Most sheriffs would be thrilled to have such a law-abiding civic body,” Gin says. Kenpachi makes a frustrated noise, rolling his eyes.

“Where’s the fun in following the law?” he asks, “it’s more like a guideline anyway.” Byakuya exhales, trying to centre himself, so as not to get tangled into an argument with Kenpachi.

“Guideline, eh?” Gin hums.

“Every town had a vagrant,” Kenpachi says, “I just want my dues!”

“It’s a little messed up that you want someone to reprimand,” Gin says, “you already police the rest of us.”

“You make me sound so nasty,” Kenpachi clucks, walking towards the counter, “I’m a man who just wants to make a difference.” He holds his arms open, not even looking at them. Yachiru is sitting on his shoulders, giggling loudly. She seems to find his foul language and outbursts entertaining, and well, he clearly doesn’t see the point in trying to set an example for his daughter.

“I’ll be right there,” Rangiku calls over her shoulder, before looking at Gin. “Are you here for coffee?”

“No,” Gin says, “I came here because you forgot your house key.” He holds out a key with a pink butterfly. Rangiku takes it and smiles, tucking the key into the pocket of her apron. Gin nods and walks away, Rangiku smiling at his back.

Because of Hisana, Byakuya finds it all nauseating. He closes his eyes and wishes that this town had more options.

**

When Hisana begins work on Monday, Unohana has Isane give her a tour of the hospital, before assigning her to different patients. For such a small town, they are tremendously understaffed, so Hisana isn’t surprised to be assigned her own patients so quickly, especially as a third-year resident.

The hospital itself is older, with hideous brown tile and cream linoleum floors for easy clean up. There are posters about the importance of vaccines and proper handwashing. There are artificial plants in several corners, collecting dust. Unohana speaks in a slow, gentle voice. Isane speaks in a faster cadence, but she enunciates clearly and speaks in the same kind, authoritative tone as Unohana. After a quick tour, Isana passes Hisana a stack of files, before showing her to the family clinic and leaving her to begin her day.

Hisana’s first appointment is to give two kids some routine vaccines. She knocks on the door, before she hears a muffled “come in.” She opens the door and pokes her head in. On the exam table, sits a young, petite woman with dark hair and big, doe eyes. Her hair is unwashed and in a messy bun, a few greasy strands framing her face. She looks very tired and withdrawn. In her lap sits a chubby baby, his fist in his mouth. On the floor sits a little girl, banging her hands against the linoleum. The little girl immediately looks up and beams at Hisana, clearly bored and desperate for attention. She sticks her tongue out of her mouth as she speaks.

“Hello,” she says, making a funny face.

“Hi,” Hisana says, kneeling down. “I’m Hisana. Who are you?”

“Chiyo,” the girl hums, smiling. She is very cute—big brown eyes and curly brown hair. The woman on the table says nothing.

“Chiyo,” Hisana says, “well, it’s nice to meet you. Who did you bring with you today?” Chiyo smiles and looks up at the woman and baby.

“Mommy and Masaya,” Chiyo says, wiggling. “We’re here for shots.” The last word comes out quiet, like she is telling Hisana a secret.

“Shots,” Hisana says, “yes. Are you a brave little girl?” Chiyo nods enthusiastically. Hisana smiles, looking up at the woman, who still looks despondent. Most mothers love to watch their children interact with other people, but she hasn’t lifted her head once.

“Hi,” Hisana says, “I’m Hisana.” Standing up, she smiles and walks to the table. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Momo,” the woman says in a glum voice.

“And this must be Masaya,” Hisana hums, poking his little arm. He grins around his fist, drool all over his face.

“Yeah,” Momo sighs. “We’re here for their vaccines.”

“Yes,” Hisana says, “this should only take a few minutes. While the nurse brings the vaccines, I thought I’d ask you a few questions.” Hisana opens a file, looking at a blank exam form. “So, how have they been? Any notable changes?” Chiyo squeals, and Hisana smiles down at her, before turning back to Momo, who still has a distant look on her face. “Momo?”

“Their father left me,” she says, “he said he’s not coming back.”

Hisana blinks, looking at Momo, who won’t make eye contact with her. It is evident that this troubles Momo far more than it bothers either of her children.

“I’m sorry,” Hisana says, “that must be difficult.” She can’t imagine being left alone with two kids. Byakuya is a dick, but he would never put Hisana in this kind of situation.

“I knew he was leaving,” Momo says, “I knew something was wrong for months. I just feel so stupid, and I try to think of anything I could have done wrong, but I can’t. I did my very best to be perfect, and it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.” She holds her baby a little tighter to her chest. Hisana feels her heart break.

“Momo,” Hisana says, “I’m sure that’s not the case.”

“Then why would he leave me?” Momo says in a quiet voice. “Aizen wouldn’t have left me if he didn’t have a reason.” Hisana swallows. She has been trained to assess, diagnose and treat physical wounds. She has no answers when it comes to the mind. If she did, well, things between her and Byakuya wouldn’t have happened the way that they did.

Hisana sets her files down on the desk, before opening the computer. “I’ll find someone for you to talk to, Momo.”

“Someone to talk to?” Momo asks.

“A therapist,” Hisana says, “we have one or two that work here. They can help you develop some perspective, get on your feet.” She smiles. “It’s a simple referral. I really do think you should go.”

Hisana holds Masaya a little tighter, and he squeaks. Hisana puts her arms out to take him from Momo, who easily lets him go.

“You think it will help?”

“It’ll be easier than going it alone.” Hisana feels Masaya grab onto a lock of her hair and twists it in his little fist.

“Okay,” Momo says, “I’ll do it.”

“Great,” Hisana says, “I’ll print off the slip, and we’ll get those vaccines. Right Chiyo?” The little girl cheers, sticking both of her fists in the air. The corner of Momo’s mouth twitches upward, which Hisana chooses to interpret as a sign of hope rather than despair.

**

A big secret about Byakuya is that he loves getting high, like, totally fucking ripped. It’s the one time he feels like a normal person. He first started getting high with Kaien and Renji, and he used heavily in his first year of university. But since his first year, he has always done it in secret, alone in a bedroom, right by a window. When Hisana was at her worst, he’d go to a local park and get stoned there, then sit on a bench and look up at the stars while he felt his body melt into the ground.

He sits on the ground at the foot of his bed, leaning against it. Unscrewing the lid of the glass jar he keeps his pot in, he breathes in deep when the sweet, skunk-y smell hits. Byakuya plucks out a sticky little bud between his thumb and forefinger, then picks up his clear glass pipe, the one he has used since he was a teenager and sticks the pot in the bowl.

Sometimes Byakuya likes to listen to music, other days he’ll watch _The Simpsons_ , but after a week of trying to avoid Hisana and teaching twice the courses, he feels like he’s earned the right to be stoned in silence. Rukia told him that she would be going to Ichigo’s for dinner, which means he doesn’t have to worry about putting a rolled-up towel by the door. Byakuya kicks his legs out and lifts the pipe to his mouth and sparks the lighter.

On one big inhale, Byakuya pulls in a lungful of hot smoke. His chest feels full and heavy as he holds it in, before opening his mouth and allowing the smoke to come out, dissipating. He loves the earthy taste, how it dries out his mouth, the way it makes the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickle as the way his body perceives the temperature of the room changes.

He keeps taking hits until the bud is reduced to ash, before standing up to go down to the kitchen. He doesn’t have a dopey grin, but his eyes are red, and his shoulders feel loose. His jaw even relaxes, and he goes downstairs, because after smoking pot he likes to drink orange pop and feel the bubbles pop in his mouth. Byakuya gets to the fridge and opens the door, leaning down to pick a can out of the door. He closes the fridge door gently, before pulling the tab and sucking back a big mouthful, swishing the sticky sweet bubbles in his mouth.

Byakuya likes pot because when he’s high, he feels the way that he imagines a normal person feels. Someone who isn’t a neurotic overachiever whose personality adds up to a big pile of nothing. The only times he was ever happier were when he was spending all of his time in libraries and when he was with Hisana. It’s why he wasn’t completely stoned throughout all of grad school.

Swishing the bubbles around his mouth, he feels his stomach rumble. He looks around the kitchen, before deciding to go without and brush his teeth, before going to sleep.

**

Living with depression is like living with an arm tied behind your back, and it creeps upon you so slowly, that you don’t even realize that you only have one arm until you are trying to do something that requires both hands. If not for Byakuya, Hisana knows that she would have dropped out of medical school. Keeping the apartment clean, putting food in the fridge, reminding her to do her homework. He was her other hand. She has felt very guilty, for not being there when he needed her, when he had done so much for her.

When Byakuya left, Hisana decided to get serious about getting better. Medication and routines weren’t enough. She got serious about Dialectical Behavior Therapy and Cognitive Behavior Therapy—skills like radical acceptance, mindfulness and evaluating unhelpful and faulty ways of thinking. Whenever she thinks about what she should have done, like on the entire drive here and she thought about how she should’ve moved with Byakuya in the first place, she’d tell herself little platitudes like ‘I can’t change what’s already happened’ and ‘it’s no use fighting the past’ and ‘it’s a waste of time to fight what’s already occurred.’ Imagine, little Hisana driving a big truck, white knuckling the wheel, whispering those three phrases to herself like a prayer.

She has settled into her new apartment. Hisana found a nice couch at the local thrift store, and she has a few plants on the windowsill. It’s a bright, homey space, even though the building itself looks haunted. She is sitting on her couch, watching a bad ghost documentary, trying to ride out the impulse to text Byakuya. This impulse has gotten worse since she has moved here. She has seen him from afar, but she is too much of a coward to approach him. She has started wearing perfume again. It’s a self-soothing technique—if she is feeling overwhelmed, she sniffs her wrist. The whole idea is that she is using one of her five senses to give herself comfort and help her ride out overwhelming and conflicting emotions.

The thing about Byakuya, particularly her feelings for him, is that they are not overwhelming or conflicting. They are steady. Her love for Byakuya lives between her stomach and diaphragm. Her feelings are not the problem, rather, the problem is that she acted on them, recklessly, instead of calling him to see if he wanted to try things again. She doesn’t like to think that his feelings could have changed, but she can’t rule out the possibility.

She really, really wants to text him, but instead, she chooses to preserve some dignity and turns her phone off, before deciding to draw a bath and stare at the ceiling of her bathroom, until her feelings recede, and the impulse to talk to Byakuya fades to a dull ache.

**

One day, Byakuya is reading essays at the dining room table when there is a knock on the door. He doesn’t bother to stand up and get it, not when Rukia is in the living room. He hears her footsteps as she approaches the door, but he doesn’t hear her greet whoever is there. Byakuya quickly loses interest, until Rukia comes into the dining room, eyes wide and mouth twisted. She stares at Byakuya until he looks at her, and even then, he has to blink at her a few times before she says anything.

“Kaien is here,” Rukia says, clasping her hands in front of her. That explains the look on her face—Rukia had a nasty crush on Kaien as a kid. He was always kind to her, greeting her and asking about her day. She would always blush bright pink and stutter, but she would also hang around when he was visiting, even if Renji was there too. Kaien followed Miyako to university, and they got married a few years ago. Last they spoke, Kaien was working as a teacher while Miyako was finished up her residency.

“Is that so?” Byakuya replies. He stands up and leaves Rukia in the dining room, cutting through the kitchen to move down the front hall. There, at the door, Kaien stands at the door, hands on his hips, grinning.

“Byakuya,” he says, “it’s been too long.” Not since the funeral. Even then, Byakuya was careful to only tell Kaien and Renji about his studies. He never mentioned Hisana. At the time, he was trying to keep his personal life private. Falling in love had never been a part of his plan, and even though he was with Hisana for years, he didn’t like the idea of anyone knowing about her. Not for the first time, he feels ashamed for keeping her a secret. There are times when he is with Renji when he wishes he could talk about what happened, how empty he feels without her.

“You think?” Byakuya asks, not smiling. Kaien grins even wider.

“Yes, I do,” he replies, “I thought about calling beforehand. I know you hate surprises.” Kaien and Renji know Byakuya better than he knows himself. It doesn’t mean that they treat him accordingly, it just means that he knows that they are purposefully ignoring his preferences rather than annoying him out of ignorance. He doesn’t know why it’s better to know that they are intentionally annoying—it just is.

“You’re not one for formalities,” Byakuya replies, “are you visiting your parents?”

“Miyako and I moved back,” Kaien grins. “She wants to be close to her parents. Apparently, there is a teaching job at the school.”

“Aizen left unexpectedly,” Byakuya replies. Kaien wheezes on an exhale, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Fuck that guy,” Kaien says, “he is such an asshole.” Byakuya’s lip twitches.

“He didn’t take Momo with him,” Byakuya says, not knowing why he bothers to share such petty gossip. “Left her and the kids behind.” Kaien’s jaw clenches. He’s not the kind of man who can sit and watch bad things happen to people. It’s one of the many things that makes him different from Byakuya.

“That’s pretty fucked up,” Kaien says, “I could never do that to Miyako. I love her too much.” He shakes his head, clearly still thinking about Aizen and Momo. “And kids? How do you leave an actual piece of you behind?”

“I don’t know,” Byakuya says. He doesn’t like to think about how this town, this house, has become a piece of him. He came back for Rukia, but when she leaves for university, he doesn’t think he will move away. He supposes that, at one time, Hisana felt like a piece of him, but he always knew that they weren’t made from the same stuff. At the time, it is what he had liked about her. But he’s different now. He has excised the part of himself that felt bound to her and has settled into mediocrity. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I can’t,” Kaien says, “I’ve got to go home and unpack some boxes, then get ready for my interview at the school tomorrow. I can’t believe I am going to have to sit in front of Mayuri and pretend that he’s a person.”

“Somehow, I do it every day.” Kaien laughs at Byakuya’s joke, because he is one of the few people who can tell when Byakuya is joking.

“I missed your sense of humor,” Kaien says.

“You’re the only one who has ever said that,” Byakuya says. Kaien sighs into a smile, completely relaxing upon exhale.

“It’s because you let me,” he says. Byakuya puzzles over that comment, long after Kaien is gone.

**

Cursing the colder weather, Hisana practically throws herself at the door of the local diner. She hates winter. Her skin is dry, she wakes up cold, and getting out of bed requires at least three layers between her and the rest of the world. Her new apartment is surprisingly warm, considering how little she pays for it, but winter maintenance is minimal, and she has fallen on her ass twice, coming home late and slipping on a patch of ice.

She rubs her hands together, walking up to the counter. Rangiku, the woman she met at the police station with Byakuya, stands at the register. She is wearing a short, pink shirtdress, unbuttoned to her breastbone, with a white lace camisole beneath it, for some coverage. She smiles at Hisana, waving.

“Hisana,” she says, “nice to meet you again.” Rangiku has the nicest teeth Hisana has ever seen in real life, and it’s obvious that they are all natural. Hisana wonders if it hurts to be so pretty.

“Rangiku,” she replies, “how’re you?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Rangiku says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I’m just standing here, waiting for something to happen.” She taps her fingers on the counter, looking at Hisana expectantly. “Have you seen Byakuya lately?” Hisana feels annoyed at the question, although it cannot be helped. Rangiku knows her as Byakuya’s friend.

“I haven’t seen him since that say in the police station,” Hisana says, “he’s been busy.” Rangiku’s mouth twitches, like she doesn’t believe her.

“Hm,” Rangiku hums, “hopefully, that will change.”

“I hope so,” Hisana says, “I’m sure he’ll get back to me when he’s available.”

“Who are we talking about?” Rangiku snorts, “Byakuya is a recluse.” Hisana shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.

“Paint won’t watch itself dry.” Just because Hisana is trying to be nonchalant doesn’t mean she can’t express some resentment. Rangiku giggles to herself.

“Coffee is on the house today,” she says. Hisana smiles and begins to feel a little more at home.

**

It’s not even 8 a.m., and Byakuya already knows that he’s in for it when Mayuri waltzes into the English office, Kaien in tow. Byakuya and Gin say nothing, turning around to watch Mayuri posture and clasp his hands together, clearly excited to say whatever it is that he’s about to say. If past experience is anything to go by, then it will probably be a great inconvenience to Byakuya and Gin.

“May I introduce the new head of the English department,” Mayuri stands back, “Shiba Kaien is an alum of this fine institution—”

“Is this really necessary?” Kaien asks, “I grew up with them.” He didn’t really grow up with Gin, but it is sweet that he included him.

“Nonsense,” Mayuri huffs, peeved that he was interrupted. “Where was I? Ah yes, Kaien is a former member of our football team, with both undergraduate and graduate degrees in education. I expect the two of you to help him with the transition, yes?” Byakuya doesn’t like the look on Mayuri’s face. He can tell that he wants Byakuya and Gin to be upset by the fact that they were both looked over for this job, despite technically having seniority over Kaien. _What a world to live in_. Byakuya supposes it could be worse—he could have a boss who is actually able to antagonize him, rather than simply annoy him.

“You know Mayuri,” Kaien says, rubbing the back of his head, “I think now would be a great time for Byakuya and Gin to tell me a little bit about the classes I will be teaching.” He smiles in this same lopsided way that he has since he was a little kid. It’s very disarming.

“Excellent initiative,” Mayuri hums, “a sign of a true leader.” He turns to look at Byakuya and Gin, clearly expecting a reaction. Gin just smirks while Byakuya blinks. Annoyed, Mayuri frowns and turns back to Kaien. “Have a good day and let me know if these two give you any trouble.”

“I can’t imagine they will,” Kaien says, “but I’ll check in after class.” Mayuri nods and shows himself out the door. Kaien turns back looks at Byakuya and Gin apologetically.

“I really didn’t think he’d promote me to head of the department.”

“Are you apologizing?” Gin asks, turning back to the files on his desk. He sounds amused, like he is trying not to laugh at an inappropriate time but can only barely contain it. Working at Karakura High School is sort of like being in a funeral home for dreams, so Byakuya supposes that it’s an appropriate reaction.

“Well, aren’t either of you upset?” Kaien asks. “You’ve both been working here for a while.”

“I’m planning on coasting here until I retire or die,” Gin says, “I’m just grateful that I don’t have to make the big decisions around here or go to any more meetings than I already have to.” Kaien smiles.

“You were always pretty funny, Gin.”

“No one gives me enough credit for my sense of humor,” Gin replies. “Byakuya never laughs.” Rather than responding, Byakuya rolls his eyes. Kaien looks at him, and he can just tell that he is going to be asked the kind of question where his answer will make him sound like an asshole.

“Byakuya, didn’t you want to lead?” Kaien asks.

“I am largely indifferent to the future of our students and this institution,” Byakuya replies, turning back to his desk to avoid seeing the disappointment on his old friend’s face. Kaien always wanted so much more for Byakuya and Renji. He was probably disappointed when Renji failed to live up to his potential too. “Gin and I organized the attendance and syllabi for your three classes in those folders on your desk. Let me know if you have any questions.”

Kaien says nothing as he takes a seat at what had been Kisame’s old desk. Aizen’s is where they put all their junk, until Gin and Byakuya can figure out a way to convince Mayuri to let them burn it without having to pay for it.

**

After her first week at the hospital, going in to work early and coming home late, Hisana has emotionally prepared herself to have no friends. She calls her sister on her breaks, and her best friend from university calls when she can. Neither of them knows why Hisana insists that a dick like Byakuya is the one for her, and they keep telling her to meet new people, to explore her options. Her sister even sent her the link to a top reviewed vibrator, in case she gets ‘lonely.’

But what Hisana actually misses is female companionship. Having a friend to drink wine with after work. A work friend who she could confide in. Someone who will listen to shitty pop music with her and watch dumb movies. Hisana just wants a friend. That’s all.

She sighs, filling out a chart. Isane gave her a whole stack to catch up on before going home. Hisana is about halfway through one when a woman sits across from her, with long glossy hair and a kind expression.

“Hi,” the woman says, “I heard that you’re the other new resident around here.” Hisana blinks at her.

“The other new resident?” Hisana asks.

“Other than me,” the woman says quickly, “sorry, I should introduce myself. My name is Miyako. I started working here today. Isane is busy and said that I should come introduce myself.” Miyako smiles warmly. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Hisana says, “I was just doing some paperwork.”

They look at each other, before smiling nervously. “Well,” Miyako says, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Well,” Hisana says, “do you want to go get lunch later? I usually take it at around noon.” Miyako tilts her head, thinking, before closing her eyes and nodding.

“That sounds lovely. I’ll come back here then.”

“Perfect,” Hisana says, thinking that she will be lonely no more.

**

The key to achieving peace in this life is to cultivate indifference. It’s something that Byakuya’s supervisor taught him, by accident. Like, they’d sit and discuss how objectively shitty the world is and speak in blunt terms about the ways that material conditions must change. Yet, Byakuya’s obviously privileged upbringing and his supervisor’s $150k salary were never brought up, and his supervisor had a way of being able to shrug and laugh whenever Byakuya would bring up a petty slight or stupid remark made by others in his cohort. _You take things so personally_ , he once said. Byakuya took this advice to heart and has worked to achieve a blissful indifference that allows him to feel the kind of peace that makes almost any unpleasant task, drudgery or indignity bearable.

It was especially useful when he was enrolled in a PhD program at a big research school. He was able to weather any and all bureaucratic hurdles. Meaningless readings, endless coursework, comprehensive exams and special fields—and that doesn’t even begin to include all of the fuckery of teaching and research, or the brain breaking labor of dissertation writing. He got into a big school, with lots of opportunities and services, many of which he never used. Like book cleaning; all of his research was on material less than 100 years old, and even then, he never really thought about archives as particularly important. Not until his parents died and he realized that their photo albums were kept in a damp basement. He has since moved them all into his father’s office, although he hasn’t gone into the room since he and Rukia moved Soujun’s cherry wood desk into her bedroom. Try as he might, he doesn’t feel indifferent towards his family; he can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing.

In truth, Byakuya’s indifference is defensive. He’s anti-authoritarian, but big research schools almost all have some money invested in authoritarian regimes and fossil fuels. Byakuya knows that, as a privileged person with an embarrassing amount of personal wealth, his political beliefs are all preferences, really. Not for the first time, he considers the fact that his affection for socialism is more about passively sticking it to his dead parents than it is about any regard for the little guy. Who cares, really, when he and Rukia are set for life?

The dirty secret about indifference is that you can only be that way if you can afford it. Like most things, true apathy is for the rich.

Byakuya stands a few feet behind Yoruichi, watching her take her sweet time at the ATM. If Rukia’s crush on Kaien was nasty, Byakuya’s crush on Yoruichi was malignant, made even more embarrassing by the fact that he knew exactly how he felt and how he wanted to act on it, while Rukia had been too young at the time to understand sex and desire.

Even worse, Yoruichi knows all of this and likes to throw his indiscretion in his face. She always has a wink or smirk for him. It’s nothing like fucking Nemu, but he always feels a little embarrassed when he runs into Yoruichi. He can’t get anything past her.

He doesn’t react when she turns around to look at him over her shoulder. Her skirt is obnoxiously short and, most unfortunately, he has to admit that his younger self had good taste, or rather, his taste in women hasn’t changed since he was thirteen.

“Hi Byakuya,” she says, popping her gum. The backs of her thighs still make him uneasy.

“Yoruichi,” he says, “how are you?”

“I’m alright,” she replies, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” She drags out ‘forever’ in a way he judges obnoxious.

“Are you finished?” he asks, choosing to ignore her. She smirks, tilting her head.

“You didn’t miss me?” she asks, coy.

“There’s not much to miss,” he says, crossing his arms. She smiles genuinely and turns back to the machine to pull out her cash and retrieve her bank card.

“It’s a shame that we were never better friends,” she hums, “we could have spent time together if you didn’t throw it away for football.” She still thinks it’s hilarious that a balletic athlete like Byakuya became a football player.

“If you liked the present, you wouldn’t have to reimagine the past.” He knows, for a fact, that she never once looked at him. Not the way he wanted her to. But she does frown, which is enough for him. She too, moved back home when the real world didn’t work out the way she intended. Urahara buzzed for a whole week before she came back to live on his couch. Apparently Soifon met someone new and told Yoruichi to move out. Byakuya can empathize with that kind of rejection. She didn’t meet someone new, but Hisana essentially told him the same.

“You’ve always had a nasty streak,” she replies, “it’s why I’ve never liked you.” If he were thirteen, her words would hurt. But he’s twenty-nine and has experienced real love. She can’t hurt him, not like she used to.

“And you’re cruel,” he says. If memory serves, Yoruichi capitalized on Soifon’s inferiority complex, even found it funny. Like it was cute that Soifon wanted to, so badly, be just like Yoruichi. At least Byakuya has never fucked a fan or someone who wants to be just like him—most women have wanted to change him, actually.

Yoruichi pauses, considering his words, before smiling. “My,” she says, “maybe I should have given you a chance.”

“You’d regret it,” he replies, not even bitter. Just self-aware. Yoruichi says nothing, but she grins so big that he can see all of her perfect white teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Presented without comment; feel free to let me know what you think (but also, you are 100% not obligated to feed my ego).

**Author's Note:**

> Another story of an apathetic asshole and the woman who is far too good for him. Feel free to let me know what you think (but also, you are 100% not obligated)!


End file.
